Fortune's Bride Part 13

"I take your point. Not in the kitchen." Then he looked around with surprise. "What are you doing here anyway? Where's Molly?"

"I sent her away." Esmeralda's color rose at this confession, and she continued quickly, "I...we had to talk privately, and the only place to be private would have been the bedchamber if Molly was in the kitchen."

"You are afraid of me," Robert said with a worried frown.

"Yes, but not of what you think," Esmeralda put in hastily. "Robert, we have been joking about the proper mode, and in a way it is funny, of course. Perhaps people should be able to express freely what they feel, but...but a free expression in some cases might give...give a wrong impression. I am afraid, but of seeming too bold, or-"

"Too bold?" Robert took her up on that at once. "Never mind what other people might think. I am as ignorant as you are of proper maidenly behavior. I want to know-I have to know-did you hate what I did or did you enjoy it?"

But Esmeralda could not bring herself to answer his question directly. Instead she stepped closer, put her arms around his neck, and lifted her face to be kissed, murmuring, "I also thought that Molly would like to be with M'Guire."

Robert understood what she meant and accepted her gesture with pleasure, even though she had not answered in words. The embrace lasted some considerable time, as he explored not only her mouth but her ears and neck with his lips. He received enough encouragement that no doubts of Esmeralda's pleasure were raised in his mind, for she kissed whatever part of him was available when he was not occupying her lips with his own. He was just insinuating his hand under her chin so that he could unb.u.t.ton the front of her riding dress when voices sounded outside. They jumped apart, both flushed with embarra.s.sment.

"d.a.m.n it," Robert growled softly, reaching out for Esmeralda again, "why shouldn't I kiss my wife?"

"Oh, you should," Esmeralda murmured, nonetheless evading him as she heard booted feet in the corridor and then mounting the stairs, "but not while dinner burns." She giggled softly. "I am sure that would cause comment. You never did so before."

"The more fool I," Robert said, but he laughed.

"We could eat upstairs," Esmeralda suggested. "There is a table. It is small-"

"We will manage very well," Robert agreed quickly. "If we remain here, we will have half the camp tramping in and out." He paused and sniffed appreciatively. He had eaten nothing all day, of course, and now that his stomach was settled, the savory odor had wakened a sharp appet.i.te. "And you will invite them all to dinner because you are much too charitable. Don't. I intend to eat it all myself."

Esmeralda stooped to pick up the fallen spoon, and Robert ran a hand over her b.u.t.tocks. She jerked upright with a gasp.

"Yes, indeed," Robert went on, "I am very hungry."

"Well, if you do that again, you won't get any dinner," Esmeralda said severely. "I will end up putting sugar over the chicken and salt in the tea."

"It was an irresistible temptation." Robert looked innocent as an angel, but his eyes glittered. "And anyway, I don't take sugar in my tea."

"You don't take it on chicken, either," Esmeralda retorted, and brandished her spoon at him. "Sit down. I am afraid to turn my back on you, and I must baste the chicken or, hungry as you are, you will not be able to eat it. Neither will I, and I am just as hungry as you are."

The words were innocent enough. The blush that accompanied the last few made them into a suggestive promise. Naturally, instead of sitting down, Robert took a step forward, but Esmeralda slid sideways toward the sink.

"If you feel so energetic," she said quickly, tipping what remained in the water bucket into a washing pan, "you can pump up some water for me."

Robert laughed. "That was not the activity I had in mind," he protested.

"I know," she admitted, laughing too, "but it will do you good."

A door slammed on the floor above, and the floorboards of the upper corridor creaked. The footsteps came down the stairs.

"Cold water is said to have a beneficial effect," Robert remarked, sighing.

He laughed again at Esmeralda's puzzled expression, grasped the handle of the water bucket, and went out the back door. Although Robert claimed ignorance, he was not being completely truthful. He did, in fact, know the convention that required "good" women to find lovemaking a trial rather than a pleasure. He had heard it used as an excuse by husbands who frequented houses of pleasure, and it had struck him as a most peculiar and unpleasant idea. Now he was certain that it was also wrong.

Everything Merry said and did marked her innocence. As he moved the pump handle, Robert began to laugh again at the idea of finding the proper mode of response to lovemaking in a book of etiquette. Perhaps it was cruel, because it was apparent that Merry had loved her mother but with a husband like Henry Talbot it was probably Robert's good fortune that Mrs. Talbot had died before she could pa.s.s along to her daughter her notions about the correct behavior of a wife to a husband. As it was, Robert believed he could teach Merry to act in any way that pleased him best. He began to pump with more vigor as he contemplated that delicious prospect and was so absorbed that the bucket overflowed and flooded his boots before he realized what he was doing.

When the cold water seeped through the seams and wet his feet, Robert jumped back with an oath, but then stood still, frowning. Cold water did have a beneficial effect, he decided somewhat grimly. It was all very well to revel in Merry's innocence, but it could easily get her into trouble. He had been a fool to fondle her as he had in a relatively public place. That sort of thing wasn't done, and he must not give her the impression that he wanted her to violate convention. She was so mischievous that his bad example might make her push a joke too far.

Until now Merry's natural modesty had protected her from behavior that would be censurable by the toffee-noses home in England. But he now realized that he must be careful not to lead her astray. Merry was very conformable to her company. She had been totally ignorant of military matters when they met. Now she was as interested and probably more knowledgeable than any army-mad subaltern. And she was right, too, about his never having behaved affectionately before. Nonetheless, any change in his manner toward her would raise comment, which was best avoided. Bedroom manners had best be kept in the bedroom.

Besides, Robert thought suddenly, he couldn't jump Merry for a quick tumble before dinner as if she were fully accustomed, as many troopers' wives were, to s.n.a.t.c.hing at any brief opportunity for lovemaking or as if she were a camp follower. He would have to be very careful this time. She said she was not frightened, and she had kissed him willingly, however, if he hurt her again, she might become less willing. That was a worrisome notion, but it was soon overlaid by a contemplation of the many pleasant ways of making Merry not only willing but eager. A minute later Robert jerked his mind back to reality. If he went on thinking along those lines, he told himself, he would have to find a way to work off his energy that was more effective than pumping water. Maybe he ought to sit in the bucket.

The idea made Robert laugh and considering how he would explain his wet breeches in addition to his wet feet was amusing enough to permit him to pick up the water bucket and enter the kitchen in a less indecent condition than that of a few minutes earlier. As he lifted the bucket to the counter, however, the bottom just caught on the edge. Had the bucket not been overfull to begin with, this would not have done any harm, but Robert had not been thinking of water or buckets and had not poured away the top two inches of liquid as he should have. A gush of cold water spilled out over him. Merry uttered a little cry of warning, but it was too late. Robert jerked, tilting the bucket even farther, and half the contents cascaded down his thighs.

Esmeralda clapped both hands to her mouth in an agonized mingling of an urgent desire to laugh and real fear that Robert would be very angry. After all, she had sent him for the water. However, to her surprise, he burst into roars of laughter himself, nearly spilling what remained in the bucket. Esmeralda seized it before this could happen and pushed it back to a safe spot on the counter.

"I am so very sorry," she cried. "I should have known you were not accustomed to fetching water."

But Robert only gurgled something about the beneficial effects of cold water and, still laughing, staggered up the stairs to find their room and change his clothing. He did not come down again, which made Esmeralda rather nervous. She had visions of entering the room and finding Robert naked in the bed. This was exciting and repellent at the same time. She would have to put the dinner aside and take off her clothes with him watching. She was still dusty and sweaty, too, from the long ride and the heat of the kitchen. She had been too busy to wash and had not expected Robert so early.

However, Esmeralda's fears were unfounded. She found Robert wearing a shirt, pantaloons, and slippers. He was sitting quietly at the table, staring out the window, so deep in thought that he did not hear the click of the latch, and Esmeralda caught a glimpse of an expression of deep concern on his face. Instinctively she said, "Robert-" and he jumped to his feet and came toward her.

"Good G.o.d, Merry, why did you carry that heavy tray up the stairs?" he exclaimed, taking it from her.

"Shall I be cruel and say I lacked faith after the water incident?" she replied lightly.

Robert smiled as he set the tray safely on the table, but his look of concern returned as Esmeralda detoured around his boots, which he had set to dry in a patch of sunlight in the middle of the floor. "Merry," he said, "I have been thinking of what to write to my parents and of how...how peculiar all this will sound in a letter. I do not like to lie to them-"

"No, don't," Esmeralda interrupted. "They would never forgive me if they discovered I was the cause of such unfilial and dishonest behavior." She sat down in the chair opposite Robert's and stared at him. "I don't know what to say, Robert. I would not for the world be a cause of discord between you and your parents. I did not love Papa, but I would have done anything for my mother. I do understand how dear parents can be."

"It's nothing to do with you, Merry. My parents won't have any objections to you. Can't see why they should. You're a lady, and you've got something as a dowry-not that they'd be likely to worry too much about that anyway."

Esmeralda opened her mouth to tell him that she had a good deal more than something as a dowry, but the words would not come. For one thing, keeping the amount of her fortune secret had become second nature. For another, she wanted very much to have Robert accept her for herself rather than because she was exceedingly rich.

Absorbed in his problem, Robert did not notice and went on. "No, it's nothing to do with you, it's just that I never wrote them about it when we were married. I guess I thought it would worry them, and I didn't want to give m' mother any ideas. And I've never mentioned you in any letter I wrote-well, there were only two-since then. It's not only that they might be hurt if I write now and say we've been married since the twenty-eighth. I guess I can explain that, but how the devil am I going to explain why I'm telling them now? I mean, I could explain it to Fa if I could talk to him, but in a letter? And if m' father's not home, m' mother would open any letter from me."

"Oh, no!" Esmeralda cried, "Please do not. What will they think of me!"

"Think of you! Fa'll want to take a horsewhip to me for getting so drunk I'd treat a decent girl like a wh.o.r.e."

"Perhaps," Esmeralda whispered, "but more likely they would think I...I did not behave as I should." It was the truth, of course. Robert had been very drunk, but if she had not encouraged him, she believed he would not have persisted.

Robert frowned. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "d.a.m.n it. Once they set eyes on you, they'll know it was my fault, but I'm not very good at writing letters anyway, and this is so complicated..."He looked at her appealingly.

"Oh, Robert, no!" she exclaimed. "I may be much better at writing letters and explaining, but your parents would know at once that you had only copied out what someone else had written, and think of the impression that would give."

"Oh, Lord," he sighed, "they'd start to imagine that I'd fallen prey to a particularly clever harpy. They should know better, of course, but m' father thinks I'm an idiot anyway, and m' mother's convinced I'm still ten years old."

Esmeralda was not really as worried as she sounded. She was cynically certain that whatever Robert's parents thought originally, they would be happy to welcome her as a daughter as soon as they discovered the extent of the deposits at her bank. However, it seemed to her that the longer his affectionate parents had to think and worry about what Robert had done, the worse their opinion of her would become. If she and Robert returned to England together and Lord and Lady Moreton saw that Robert was happy, that she was socially acceptable, and simultaneously heard about her fortune, they might still be shocked but not, she hoped, antagonistic. She could take the blame upon herself, too, saying she had been so frightened, she had begged Robert not to tell them. Fear was not nearly so reprehensible as seduction.

"Do you think the extent of time will be significant?" Esmeralda asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do you think your parents would be more deeply hurt or worried if you wrote a week or a month from now instead of immediately?"

"Probably not," Robert said, his expression lightening. He was not at all reluctant to put off an unpleasant duty, but then his face clouded again. "But I don't see that it can help, either."

"It may not," Esmeralda agreed, smiling, "but I think this is not the best time to consider so important a subject. You are hungry and tired, and, I suspect, still a little disordered from your potations. If it cannot do serious harm, I would suggest that you put the question of the announcement aside for a day or two, at least. Perhaps something will occur to us." She pushed the chickens invitingly nearer to him and extended a carving knife. "If you will carve, I will serve out the rice and greens and sauce. I'm sorry it's so very simple a meal, but we didn't arrive until five o'clock, and Molly didn't think there would be time to cook anything besides chicken. If you hadn't come when you did, I would have sent Carlos to discover whether there was a cook shop, but I didn't even have time for that."

As she spoke Robert had swiftly carved both small birds and distributed pieces on the plates Esmeralda readied. He took a bite and smiled. "Simple but tasty. I swear Sir Arthur must hire a cobbler and tell him to cook old shoes." He chewed for a while in silence, then reached for a second helping.

As she added the garnishings to his plate she asked, "Robert, where are we and why? Can you tell me? I mean, I know the name of the town, but M'Guire couldn't tell us anything else."

His eyes lit, and he began to describe the battle of Rolica. Esmeralda shook her head. "First tell me why your coat was all torn and your breeches all stained."

Robert looked surprised. "That had nothing to do with the fight at Rolica," he said, quite truthfully but giving Esmeralda a totally false impression. "That was at Brilos when I had to leave my horse and go climbing around on a stupid hill to tell those idiots in the Sixtieth and the Ninety-fifth that help was on its way."

"Then you weren't in the fighting?" she asked.

"Not really," Robert said regretfully. "Fa won't hear of my taking a line command. I'm going to have to talk to him about it again. I really think I need some field experience before I command a regiment of my own. But what I did isn't in the least important."

As far as Robert was concerned, he had told the truth. He did not consider riding through shot and sh.e.l.l or even the hand-to-hand combat in which he had engaged as taking part in the fighting. To his mind, to take part in the fighting meant leading men into action and being responsible for what they did. But, of course, Esmeralda did not know this. She was therefore left with the notion that he had probably torn and stained his coat and breeches scrambling through brush and over rough ground.

Comforted and content, she turned her full attention to Robert's detailed explanation of the overall significance of the battle of Rolica. The actual advantage gained militarily was far less important than the significance in terms of morale. "If we could have pursued them, cut them off from Loison's force and from Lisbon, and wiped them out, it would have hurt Junot. As it is, I'm afraid we haven't done the main French force much harm, but we've done ourselves a lot of good."

"Did Sir Arthur think it too dangerous to follow?" Esmeralda asked eagerly. "Would we have been caught between the two armies?"

"Sir Arthur never says too much about what he thinks," Robert admitted. "It's one of the things I don't like about serving with him, but I can usually figure it out afterward or if I ask after the action, he'll explain. And he's so good a general that it's worth waiting for. But anyway, coming to Vimeiro hasn't much to do at all with French movements. Sir Arthur received word that Acland and Anstruther are off the coast with four thousand men. We have to protect the landing site. And it's important to have the extra men because those idiots in Whitehall-or maybe the old fools at the Horse Guards-got the wrong information about what Junot has to put up against us."

"Is the difference serious?" Esmeralda frowned with concern but her voice was steady and her expression was not in the least fearful.

Robert smiled at her "It might have been if these two brigades had not arrived. Once they are ash.o.r.e, I believe we will be strong enough to throw off any attack by Junot."

"Did not the Spanish troops desert as expected?" Esmeralda asked.

"Yes and no." Robert grinned. "There are still about six thousand Spanish troops in Lisbon, but they're doing more for us than for Junot. In fact, he only managed to prevent them from deserting by arresting them in small batches, and now he's got a whole battalion tied up guarding them."

"From what you have said about the abilities of the Spanish army, keeping the troops prisoner may cost the French more men than allowing them to return to Spain and fight," Esmeralda remarked.

Robert laughed aloud. "You are becoming a better general than Junot," he teased. "But there is another funny part to this. There is a Russian fleet in Lisbon harbor with about six thousand seamen under Admiral Siniavin. They haven't done a thing since they arrived but eat. When the Portuguese started to rebel, Siniavin refused to help the French. He said that the tsar had never declared war on the Portuguese nor recognized the French annexation of Portugal. He wouldn't even let his men guard the Spanish prisoners."

"But why?" Esmeralda was puzzled. It seemed very odd behavior for an ally.

"Because there is a strong party in Russia violently opposed to the peace Alexander made with the French, and Siniavin is in sympathy with this party. It also seems that Siniavin is Royal Navy trained and served with our fleet for a few years. He has no intention of helping the French against us if he can avoid it. Naturally, he can't disobey orders, but he can draw the line pretty tight and do only what his instructions specifically command. And that, I gather, is nothing. He's been at sea since before Russia declared war on England, and I don't think he's got any orders."

"How convenient," Esmeralda remarked.

"Yes, isn't it?" Robert responded, grinning.

"Then what does Junot have?" Esmeralda asked, returning to the point of the discussion that affected them most directly.

"A lot more than the fourteen or fifteen thousand men Sir Arthur was led to expect-at least twenty thousand, we think."

Esmeralda thought for a moment and then said, "So all in all, the numbers are about even, aren't they? The French may have a little edge, but-"

"But they don't have Sir Arthur," Robert replied with grim enthusiasm. "He's really the best general I've ever seen in action. And he's used to being the underdog and winning anyway. That's important. And because of Rolica, for the first time our men and officers believe they can beat the French."

Esmeralda looked so astonished that Robert laughed again. He realized that she had accepted as gospel his conviction that under Sir Arthur's direction, a British victory was inevitable. It was a very pleasant feeling that she trusted him so completely.

"I guess you never paid much attention to what Boney was doing in Europe, did you, Merry?" Robert asked.

"No..."

"Well, Boney beat everyone to flinders," Robert told her.

"I knew that, I mean, I knew he rolled up the Austrians, Russians, and Prussians."

Robert nodded. "Yes, well, you see that's been part of the trouble. Everyone is so afraid of Boney's French troops that they're half-beaten before they start. I'm pretty sure, although no one said it outright, that our own men and officers felt the same way. But we've had phenomenally good luck. That little action at Brilos-I'll swear it was half bravado and half hysteria that made those four companies chase the French pickets too far. But they held out like heroes after they'd run into the whole rear guard, and then we beat them at Rolica."

"You said you would," Esmeralda put in, smiling.

But Robert did not return the smile, and he shook his head. "I swear G.o.d's on our side, Merry. Everything went wrong at Rolica. Colonel Lake got a rush of heroism to the head-or maybe he didn't understand the orders. We'll never know because he's dead now, but he started the attack long before he should have-before the artillery had a chance to soften up the troops and before there was any hope of support on the flanks from Ferguson or Trant."

"But Robert, if everything went wrong-" Esmeralda hesitated, unsure of how she wanted to finish the sentence.

"We beat them anyway," Robert pointed out with blazing eyes. "We drove the French out of a very strong position by sheer courage and fighting skill." He drew a deep breath then and smiled wryly. "At least, that's how the men and officers see it. And it's put them on top of the world. They may even believe they're better soldiers-that's not true, but it doesn't matter-"

"Isn't that dangerous?" Esmeralda remembered the tears and stains on Robert's clothing and was suddenly frightened. "Overconfidence can lead to rash actions. You said Lake had behaved rashly and upset Sir Arthur's plan."

"You don't have to worry about overconfidence. Sir Arthur will let all the officers have the rough side of his tongue for not obeying orders. They'll be more careful-"

"Moreton!"

A roar from the stairwell cut off whatever more Robert had been about to say. Esmeralda saw his lips tighten and his nostrils flare with temper, and a thrill went through her. It was the first time Robert had ever shown the smallest sign that he preferred her company to his duty. Nonetheless, as Robert went and flung open the door, a definite feeling of relief was mingled with her joy. She could have kept him talking for a while longer, but eventually he would have resumed the amorous activities he had begun earlier.

Not that Esmeralda objected to that. Despite the pain she had suffered, she was eager to renew the experience, partly out of curiosity, partly out of a recollection of the pleasure and excitement that mingled with the pain, and partly because she understood it was a way to bind Robert to her. Her problem was that she felt she could not be very appetizing at the moment. She wanted to wash and comb her hair and put on a pretty new dress so that she would not fall too far below the standards to which Robert was accustomed.

Thus, although she lowered her eyes, she was not really disappointed when Robert came back from the door still tight-lipped with displeasure to say, "I'm wanted. I hope it won't be for long, but I don't know."

"It's all right," she said, putting out her hand to him. "I have to clear up anyway. Whenever you come, I'll be waiting."

Chapter Twenty.

As soon as Robert's footsteps died away down the stairs, Esmeralda tumbled all the plates together onto the tray and carried them to the kitchen. She did not bother to wash them. Molly would do that in the morning. Getting herself sweet and clean was more important than anything else, particularly as it would not be easy to do. First, water had to be heated. Esmeralda emptied what Robert had left in the bucket into the kettle and set it on the stove. Then she lugged the bucket out to the pump and filled it, brought it back to the kitchen, topped up the kettle, and emptied the remainder of the water into several other pots-as many as could be set on the stove.

While those heated, she searched the house, the pantry, and finally the outhouses, but she could not find a bath. In the end she found a pan, possibly used for baking, that would be wide enough for her to kneel in. It was far too flat to bathe in, but it would catch the excess water while she sponged herself clean.

Esmeralda first took the large pan upstairs, then filled the bucket with cold water and carried that up. At that point she realized that she needed a second bucket for the hot water. She recalled seeing one while she was looking for the bath, but she was getting fl.u.s.tered because everything was taking so long and she could not remember where she had seen it. She ran about looking in all the least likely places only to discover the bucket in the most logical spot, under the sink. When she saw that it was dirty, she almost wept with anxiety and scrubbed it clean with frantic haste.